Facing the Past
by Mirror and Image
Summary: [Complete] Kallus, on Yavin IV, sees a Lasat that isn't Zeb. Things go as expected.


**Untitled**

Mirror and Image

If ever there was one thing Kallus was good at, was compartmentalizing. He always remained calm, cool, and collected, as it was the best way to maintain efficiency. As an Imperial Security Bureau agent, it had been imperative. One did not work for ISB without being able to compartmentalize. After all, in the course of one's duties, one needed to do whatever was necessary to get results. Kallus was fully aware that he had done numerous _awful_ things in the name of the Empire and his job. He'd violated privacy, starved planets, killed... Compartmentalizing was paramount. Compartmentalizing and self-delusion, though he hadn't seen any of that in himself till later.

Feelings were always dealt with in small bits during down time. After all, one never knew when the klaxon of alarms would sound, signaling time to revert to controlled demeanors, so small bits was all that could be allowed. Reflections were done when writing reports, along with the self-aggrandizing rational necessary to help one sleep. Kallus had always felt he lacked that prideful arrogance. His pride was in accomplishments, efficiency, thoroughness, not puffing himself up like a parading peacock. He felt his actions spoke for themselves, that no other explanation was needed. If he starved a planet, it was part of a trap and never went too far. He only attacked when he was certain, and often set things up to _be_ attacked so he never had to self-justify something he'd been right to do.

He hadn't realized that _that_ had been his own version of self-aggrandizing. Not until he'd broken a leg and nearly froze on an icy moon with only a mortal enemy to keep him alive. He'd had to do a lot of self-reflection on that moon. There had been a long stretch of mere silence while the powered heater worked. Kallus had admitted some hard truths about Lasan; acknowledging, if only to himself, just how manipulative he had become, how low he'd stooped to delude himself and justify the atrocities he'd had to commit before he'd gone in to ISB and after. There had been a flurry of activity after that, with a glowing moon rock, escaping some new addition to the galactic bestiary, climbing pillars of ice and hanging upside down by his _broken_ leg, depending on a Lasat to help him survive. Then it was quiet and huddling together for warmth on the snowy surface and time to reflect and face hard truths again. As Garazeb Orrellios had slept in the small outcropping they sheltered in from the wind, Kallus had let himself silently sob and shudder as he remembered Onderan, Saw Gerrera's Lasat, watching his squad get murdered one by one. He remembered his scars.

That icy moon had given him a lot of time to reflect. And after Garazeb Orrellios... Zeb... had left, he'd had to shove all those difficult reflections and freed feelings back down as he shivered and awaited rescue.

Thus he'd returned to the Empire, cold buried deep in his bones.

The cold did not leave.

Admiral Konstantine barely acknowledged his return. ISB merely gave him the backlog that had built up along with the current work to do. He shivered throughout. There was no reason to. He was no longer a few degrees from hypothermia.

But the cold remained.

Until he realized _why_.

After his self-delusions had been thoroughly eradicated on that frigid moon, Kallus tried to keep self-aggrandizement from creeping back into his thoughts. He tried to see things clearly for what they were. As such, he found it getting harder and harder to do his job. Rather than doing something like starving planets without _understanding_ that he was doing atrocities that kept bringing up that cold feeling. He had seen Zeb welcomed so warmly, been warmed by just having Zeb to survive on that icy moon, but there didn't seem to be such camaraderie in the Empire like had remembered. While they were hardly close, Kallus had always assumed that he and Konstantine were at least acquaintances. They got along well together, favoring efficiency and victory. Konstantine may be more politically minded but he _understood_ battle unlike most politicians.

But there had been nothing.

And he'd been cold.

Things had changed a great deal for him after that.

He was now a part of the Rebellion, still doing intelligence work. But this time he _stopped_ the atrocities instead of committing them. This time he _saved_ people instead of hurting them. And he still needed to compartmentalize, but this was... easier somehow. He didn't have so much feeling to bury, so much guilt. He was more... whole. Kallus was still a liar, and a cheater, but now he did it for the right reasons and for the right people.

Zeb was perhaps the biggest help.

Once he'd been brought to Yavin IV, the Rebellion had, justifiably given his history, been overly cautious about accepting him within their ranks. But the _Ghost_ crew had submitted their reports. The people from Atollon had spoken honestly about the veracity of Fulcrum's information. Cassian Andor had come forward with some very clear words about him. And he'd been working hard at proving himself ever since. That Kallus had expected. They gave him warmth instead of cold. Of course they would fight for him as he had fought for them.

Perhaps he was still a little arrogant.

But he felt far more fulfilled now than he had thought possible.

Jarrus and Bridger had yet to return from Mandalore with Wren. That wasn't surprising, Mandalore would never be _easy_ to deal with and Kallus wished them luck. Mandalore would be a fine addition to the rebellion, and Kallus knew that Zeb and Syndulla missed the other half of their crew. For now, Zeb stayed with security, keeping watch around the ancient temple they inhabited, and going over supplies with AP-5. Syndulla ran supply runs and smaller missions as she could with the remains of Phoenix Squadron and mixing with the rest of the Yavin pilots. Things were still chaotic, unorganized, and liable to change at a moment's notice, but Kallus simply smiled and kept burying himself in intelligence reports and working with Andor to filter out what was good intel or bad, reviewing new pilots and recruits to see where they would be best suited, etc.

One day, Kallus found himself going over some personnel with Zeb, AP-5, and K-2. AP-5 would snark before K-2 would interject brutal honesty on the situation before Zeb growled about getting _on with it_ , and Kallus just let himself laugh and chuckle like he hadn't in a long time. The hanger was bustling, pilots running about. Some just coming back, some prepping to leave, it was a busy day. A freighter had landed outside and Kallus didn't pay it much mind, enjoying the byplay before him far too much.

Something in the noise of the crowds almost caught his ear, but it was enough for Kallus to stiffen and straighten his spine. He couldn't say why he had reacted or what he'd heard, but he paid more attention to the crowd than to his friends.

" _Move it, bogans_."

Kallus was now ramrod straight, heartbeat pounding in his ears, sweat gathering on his brows, his breath was coming in very small, very quiet gasps, limbs were staring to tremble.

 _No_.

Zeb and AP-5 were asking what was wrong, K-2's optics were taking things in with interest. He was _here_ at the rebel base. He was not back _there_.

Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize. He had prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize and this was a time he needed to desperately. He could deal with this later, alone, in a quiet moment. He would _not_ deal with it here in the middle of the hangar.

Zeb was still trying to get his attention, and reached out a large meaty hand, and Kallus instinctively twisted away, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe! He was in the here and now. But instinct was taking full control of his hindbrain, and he swirled around to watch. Against his will, he could feel his eyes scan the crowds and immediately hone in on a tall and lumbering Lasat. More hunched than Zeb, larger muscles, eyes more of a yellowish-green, stripes paler than he remembered, and that cold, distant look.

Kallus wiped the sweat from his brow to keep it from dripping into his eyes. _Compartmentalize_!

Zeb kept his distance after Kallus had shied away, but he was clearly worried, from what Kallus could see out of his peripheral vision. He dared not spare more than that to look.

"Kallus..." Zeb asked softly, his very presence seeming to exude the calm that Kallus so desperately needed yet couldn't absorb. "What's wrong?"

The droids behind him were suspiciously silent. Kallus couldn't spare them a thought.

"It's _him_."

"Him?" K-2 asked. "Who is him?"

"I have no idea," AP-5 replied.

But Zeb had locked his eyes on the Lasat, and watched, clearly understanding. "Do you want me to do anything?"

Yes.

"No." Kallus heaved in a great breath and let it out in as controlled a manner as he could manage. "I'm fine."

"I seriously doubt that," AP-5 droned. There was more conversation going on behind him, but he couldn't focus on it. He watched that hulking Lasat cross easily through a stream of rebels bustling everywhere before entering the temple. No one else seemed to be paying any attention, like this was _normal_. Which it was. Pilots came in for various and sundry reasons. Kallus understood that the only thing abnormal at the moment was _himself_ and his reaction.

Once the Lasat was out of sight, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He stiffly turned back to Zeb and the droids, forced a wry grin to twitch on to his lips. "I am fine," he repeated.

Zeb's flat look was all that was needed to offer his opinion of that lie, which likely summed up how the droids all thought as well.

"It's nothing," Kallus insisted.

Zeb's flat look flattened even further.

"You are lying," K-2 replied, optics oddly focused on him. "You've never lied to me before."

Kallus growled out a sigh. "It's nothing I can't handle," he amended.

AP-5 droned: "If that was your 'handling' it, then you must still be deluded from that fever several weeks ago. I may not be a medical droid, but I've been around the Rebellion enough to know a stress response when I see one."

"Who were those beings that Lasat was escorting?" K-2, naturally, pointed out the one thing Kallus hadn't noticed.

"What?" Kallus asked.

"He was escorting some prisoners," Zeb was still watching him closely, arms still crossed. "He brought them right in, probably for processing."

Prisoners? Since when did Gerrara take prisoners?

Kallus sharply took in air through his nose and spun on his heel. He needed to know what that Lasat was doing bringing in prisoners and if Mon Mothma and the Council knew just _what_ Gerrara was. What he wasn't expecting was a large, heavy hand to plant itself firmly on his shoulder and that heightened instinct that was pulsing in his hindbrain had him grab the wrist and _flip_ the perpetrator over said shoulder into the ground.

Zeb grunted. "Should have known better than to do that."

Kallus held in a wince and offered his hand to help up his friend. "Sorry," he said softly.

Zeb dusted himself off. "I entered your reaction zone. That wasn't really a surprise. Now. _What are you doing_?"

Kallus turned back to where the _other_ Lasat had entered the temple. "I'm going to see who was brought in."

"Uh, huh," Zeb grunted. "And then?"

Kallus hesitated. "Figure it out from there."

"Right, well, I'll be coming with you."

Kallus's shoulders dropped into a more relaxed frame almost immediately and he couldn't quite bring it within himself to express how grateful that statement made him. He could still feel the fluttering along his nerves, the need to _do_. But having Zeb at his side made him feel... more in control. He took a deep steady breath that wasn't quite as stuttering as it had been earlier. Compartmentalize and _focus_.

Kallus turned to AP-5. "Would you mind checking out the ship that that Lasat came in? Point of origin, logs, anything you can access?"

He expected the protocol droid to question the need, request that Kallus assign himself to sickbay, or just ignore him to talk about him to K-2. Instead, AP-5 agreed. "I am pleased to see that you trust my ability to lead a mission, even one as small as this."

Kallus turned to K-2, but the security droid interrupted. "You need me elsewhere. I know when I'm not needed."

Kallus frowned. K-2 was still his friend. "I wouldn't say..."

"That's why I'm saying it. I'll be out of your way." Then he lumbered off.

"Kallus," Zeb gave a wry grin, "we have the strangest friends."

He was actually able to grin back, feeling much better than he had moments ago. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Kallus lead the way back into the old temple, his mind much keener and calmer now. He held up his datapad that he'd been using when going over personnel with AP-5 earlier, and kept his eyes on it till he reached the deck officer.

"Oh, Captain Orellios! How are you?" the officer greeted with a bright smile. "Did you see? We have another Lasat visiting."

Kallus flicked his eyes to Zeb discreetly, but Zeb didn't even need the look to continue with such a perfect opening. "Really?" he asked innocently. "My people are so few in number I'm surprised another Lasat turned up here. Where did they go?"

"He brought in some prisoners for questioning," the officer replied, "Sublevel 2. If you hurry maybe you can catch him."

Zeb's grin was somewhat toothy. "I intend to. My thanks, Officer. Keep up the good work."

"No problem."

Once away from the deck officer, Kallus looked up from his 'pad. "I actually wish to avoid that Lasat."

"I thought you might," Zeb replied. "We're heading to the stairs and avoiding the lifts."

Kallus nodded. "I want to talk to those prisoners first. The more background the better."

"We'll need to check the logs first, see where they came from, what they'll be questioned about. We don't even know if that Lasat will hang around. It could be he's just doing a drop off then lifting off."

"I trust AP-5 to keep them grounded," Kallus replied.

"He doesn't know if he should or not. Let alone why."

Kallus actually paused in his steps and offered a heartfelt, if small smile. "If I've learned one thing about Rebels, it's that they trust their instincts and follow through. If AP-5 find anything suspicious, and I think he will, he'll handle it appropriately."

Zeb's chuckle was sardonic.

"Exactly. Now, let's go meet some prisoners."

The Rebellion did not have a detention block. Kallus had been initially surprised to hear this, but upon further reflection, it made sense. After all, it wasn't like the Rebellion had won any battles yet, captured territory or convoys in order to _have_ prisoners. Any captured Imperials on missions were released or left behind for speed and escape. Slicing communication arrays were better for intel than interrogation when dealing with something so large as the Empire. That was part of the reason it was so surprising to see _that_ Lasat bringing in prisoners. There was nowhere for them. If any of the rebels needed time in the brig, the best the Rebellion had was some storage rooms converted on an as-needed basis as every inch of space was utilized.

Sure enough, when Kallus and Zeb arrived at Sublevel Two, they found the quartermaster having the prisoners emptying out their own jails. The Lasat was nowhere to be seen, and Kallus did _not_ sigh in relief very, very quietly. There were two prisoners. One human, dark haired and swarthy, and one Nautolan, blue with many lekku tied back. The human was just pulling out a heavy storage unit, clearly unused to physical labor, and paused to take a breath.

"Not again," he moaned upon seeing Zeb. The Nautolan tensed and looked over, shuddering and dipping to hide behind the unit she had been pulling. "We said we'd answer questions, we did everything you asked, what more do you want, Lasat?"

That set off alarms for Kallus, but he refrained from addressing it outright. He glanced at the quartermaster. "Sir?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "Go for it, Kallus. I know you'd be better at questions than whoever the Council could dig up." She went back to her datapad, but stayed close and kept aware. Fine by Kallus.

So Kallus decided it was best to start small. "We'll get the basics out of the way," he said lightly. "Name and planet of origin." He glanced to Zeb and flicked his eyes. It was clear the two were nervous around Zeb and both of them had a guess as to why. Zeb nodded and backed away into the shadows. He didn't leave, of that Kallus was certain, but by being nowhere else in sight, it would give the prisoners time to relax their guard.

The human let out a gusty sigh. "Tidon. Tidon Daybreaker, ensign. Born and raised on Andara."

The Nautolan's voice was barely heard. "Lit Phuuto," she whispered. "Born on Glee Anslem, but I was raised on Mon Cala."

"Yes, yes," Kallus said, projecting the air that this wasn't new to him even as he started taking notes on his own pad. "How were you captured?"

Lit just kept shaking and Tido let out another sigh. "We both work on Capza, at one of the resorts."

"Resorts?" Kallus interrupted, looking up the planet. Tropical mostly, part of a free-commerce zone that the Empire was slowly taking over under Tarkin's control.

"Yes," Tidon nodded. "The Empire maintains a base on Capza, but we all know it's just a resort for the upper echelons. I staff the so-called mess-hall. More like a restaurant. Officers come and go whenever they want and make the most ludicrous requests for food we don't even _have_."

That made sense, though Kallus had never heard of this base on Capza, or even of Capza itself. Likely more for Moffs and the highest of officers.

Kallus turned to the Nautolan. "And you?" he asked in a disinterested manner.

"Lifeguard," she whispered. "I am a lifeguard on the beach. Officially. Really, I'm there for the officers to see and... watch."

Kallus couldn't quite stop the tightening of his lips. Without being obvious, he glanced to her again. A pleasing shade of blue, the large dark eyes, while showing clear fear, were shaped in an almost come-hither look, and she was wiry of frame with a clear swimmer's body, but clearly also had assets that many men and a several women would appreciate. She was there for officers to not just see or watch, but was likely pulled to bed against her will. Kallus's nostrils flared in anger that he pushed back and compartmentalized. There would be time to deal with that later.

"I see," he voice under control, even as his disgust made him want to gag. Sadly, he could also see why they were likely captured. "And how did you get captured?"

Lit shrank even further and kept shaking. Tidon wiped his face, and just looked tired. "Lit and I... We're... When I met her..." Tidon sighed again, still staring at his feet. "I had leave. A full two weeks. I've been stockpiling it. I was careful and arranged it so that I had leave the same time as Lit. We went to Saleucami just to see what it was like on an arid planet."

Kallus kept asking questions on background and how they were captured until it was pretty clear what had happened. The young couple intended to vacation together but had made the mistake of choosing a planet near Onderon, Saw Gerrara's home base and where the terrorist knew every escape route and bolt hole. Gerrara's men had found the couple talking about their respective jobs and the Imperials they served and had name dropped some large names of the military. The possibility of whatever gossip they had heard was intriguing and might produce leads but Kallus didn't ask any questions about that. A glance from the quarter master asked why and a gesture from Kallus indicated later questioning. The quartermaster merely shrugged.

Naturally, with Gerrera's men hearing this they had kidnapped the couple. This was where Lit started shaking and Tidon got more reticent. Even an untrained idiot could see they weren't saying anything about what Gerrara had done with them. Kallus circled the topic, sniffed out what he could, but he didn't press. They were clearly terrified and Kallus wanted honesty, not them saying whatever they thought he wanted to hear. He had done harsh methods in ISB, he didn't want to resort to that here.

But it was a clear start.

"Zeb," he called, still pretending to be absorbed in his datapads. Zeb stepped forward and both prisoners flinched, stepping back. Kallus set down his 'pad. "Let's help them. They look tired."

"Not a problem," Zeb replied easily. He stepped into one of the "cells" and the Nautolan woman couldn't skitter away fast enough. Lifting the larger crates with ease, Zeb emptied one room while Kallus did the other. The prisoners tensely watched. The quartermaster guided them to pallets and other basics for the cells, which Kallus and Zeb set up.

"Thank you, Captain Orrelios," Kallus said when they were done.

"Always a pleasure," Zeb replied.

The woman was still shaking. "Please don't hurt us..." she whispered.

"He's a Lasat," the man hissed. "Just stay quiet."

Kallus kept looking at his datapad. "Don't let your prejudices fool you," he replied softly. "I once thought Lasat were violent, stupid, and cruel." He looked up, understanding all too well where they were coming from. "Zeb had changed my mind by just being himself. By informing me of what Lasan was like, and what his culture was, I can understand when I'm being prejudiced and adjust accordingly. The first Lasat I ever met filled every stereotype I had thought and then some. But not all are like that. Indeed, very few are."

"You give me too much credit," Zeb said softly. "You were realizing things on your own before we properly met."

Kallus only shrugged. He understood the position of these two. He had lived it. Only time and exposure to Zeb would undo the damage of Gerrara's Lasat, if at all. Kallus had had years to deal with Onderon. These two had only been away from that Lasat for moments. This wouldn't be his place to fix it either.

Kallus bowed his head to the two. "I'll be back."

After that Lasat was _far_ off system. Then he could ask questions about whatever higher-ups they had served and what they heard in either pillowtalk or gossip at the table. For now, it was time to work.

* * *

The next stop was to the docking bays, Kallus followed the distinct tones of AP-5, edging to the outside before a certain blue protocol droid walked up to him. "I am currently running diagnostics on the Lasat's ship to locate an error he placed there," AP-5 said. "And I have gathered the flight logs, though it looks as though they are purged on a regular basis. I only have the last two flight plans - flying from Mon Gazza to Selucamai and then Selucamai to here. The flight droids were also unhelpful, and if I might add, distinctly rude. I can't believe they are newer than I."

"So we don't know Gerrera's base of operations," Kallus murmured, running a hand through his hair. "He's smart."

"Well," AP-5 replied, "I do know his ship is almost out of fuel, and a human is trying to arrange for that before I interrupted him."

"Good," Kallus said. "Stall them a little more."

"Of course, just order me around like I haven't already done a great service…"

Kallus would make it up to the inventory droid later, he turned to see Zeb accosted by one of his security subordinates. The former royal guard still had duties to attend, and Kallus left his friend to his work, catching his gaze to acknowledge he was leaving and going back into the temple. Gerrera was obviously good at hiding his trail, and if Kallus was going to do anything he would have to build a case. He needed to look over mission reports - not Gerrera's, they would be too clean and clinical, but reports from others who had worked with him - read between the lines, figure out a pattern and he was certain exited. That meant getting clearance outside of personnel reports, and he doubted he had that.

"Kallus, I have brought you help."

The former ISB agent to see Kay-Tu again, dragging along a confused Cassian Andor.

Kallus froze, knowing this would be sensitive work for his mentor and friend. Cassian, too, committed terrible deeds in service to the Rebellion, but unlike Gerrera there was heart there, and he would have to be careful not to prickle along some very sensitive wounds. Something he didn't care to do as all he was focused on was his current investigation. He narrowed his eyes to Kay-Tu.

"You and I are going to have words about this," he said in as close to his usual monotone as possible. Not easy, given what was simmering within him.

"We already have words," Kay-Tu replied. "That's how we communicate."

"Enough, you two," Cassian interrupted before a bantering war that Kallus _did not_ have time for erupted. "What is going on?"

"I'm handling it," Kallus replied.

"No," Kay-Tu countered, "you're doing this alone which is stupid and takes too long."

Kallus narrowed his lips to a thin line. He could feel the anger bubbling up from within. He knew it was because he was dealing with Gerrara and _that_ Lasat. Kay-Tu had done nothing to rile up so much ire, but everything was pressing up against that rage and poking it, even if not meant to. He took a controlled breath because he would _not_ fire out all of the vitriol roiling within him at his friends. He was _better_ than that.

Cassian, inscrutable as always, must have seen something, because he just motioned. "Let's go somewhere more private."

"I need to get to work."

Cassian only raised an eyebrow.

" _Fine_."

His mentor brought the three of them to a small meeting room, reserved for briefing or debriefing squadrons instead of fleets. "Now," Cassian said as he shut the door, " _someone_ had best start explaining."

One glance at Kay-Tu and Kallus knew he had better be the one explaining. He didn't care to hear whatever Kay-Tu's version of events would be. He sat down heavily and rubbed his sweaty face. "One of Saw Gerrara's operatives is on base," he sighed. Leaning back, he looked Cassian right in the eyes. "You know my file backwards and forwards. You know what that means."

The Fest native said nothing, just sat down in another chair and leaned forward, arms on his knees.

Kallus stayed quiet.

Cassian's brow twitched in annoyance. "Clearly there's more to it than the reports."

Kallus leaned back and sighed. "Everything in that report is accurate and true. I was just another stormtrooper. An enlisted man. We had been sent to Onderon to bring peace. Gerrara was leading rebels against the Empire and we were tasked with clearing out the insurgency. I lead my men out on a patrol in the jungles."

He could still smell it. The stale water, rotting wood of fallen trees. And that was nothing to what the area smelled like _after_.

"It was routine. We had already done a dozen patrols just like it. We knew Gerrara's people had to have a base nearby, but nothing ever happened."

A false sense of security. He had learned his lesson after that. Learned to look and listen. Learned to double check. Learned to be more efficient.

"We had just cleared a checkpoint," and Kallus gave a bitter smile, "so the help that arrived took even _longer_ to realize we were in trouble." He rubbed his face again. Too many memories. "There was an explosion. I was lucky. I was unconscious after that." White hot pain along his side and then flight, then slamming up against what had to be the only tree that _wasn't_ rotting away. "You know the reports. There was a firefight after that, but my unit was already scattered and confused, half dead from that initial blast." He closed his eyes. "They waited until most of us had passed so that the blast hit the middle of the unit. Half were dead in that first blast. We didn't have a chance."

He had studied those reports trying to _understand_. He never did. Even now that he was on the other side, that he was a Rebel who needed to fight the Empire and plan assaults, he still didn't _understand_ Gerrara's methods. There was a cruelty there. And as much as Kallus understood how to be cruel to get results, something about how Gerrara operated seemed different. Or maybe he was too close to what had happened on Onderan and his men. He didn't want to think about that.

"When I came to…" in agony and bleeding and unable to move and barely able to see straight… "Gerrara's Lasat mercenary was calmly walking through the smoke and fire. Every trooper he found alive took a blaster to the head." Watching as they all died one by one. Survivors that had already dropped their weapons and held up their hands in surrender. Survivors that had lost a leg or arm and couldn't fight back. Survivors that were no longer resisting. Shot down. One by one." _Die, bogans_. "He made sure that there were no survivors." Closing his eyes and keeping his breath as shallow as possible, ignoring pain and numbness. Listening to heavy footsteps and methodical blasterfire.

Kallus took a shaky breath. "It took three hours for base to realize we hadn't reported in." Three hours unable to move, three hours surrounded by the corpses of his unit, three hours looking around for that Lasat to see if he had returned to kill him. Three hours of smelling fire, smoke, and burnt meat.

"I was transferred to communications while I recovered. ISB recruited me from there."

Something flickered in Cassian's eyes, but Kallus didn't even try to interpret it. The air was heavy around them and Kallus just stared down to the floor.

"So that's why you want to investigate the new Lasat on the base," Kay-Tu broke the silence.

"You were an Imperial at the time," Cassian said by contrast.

"Yes," Kallus said. "Fresh out of the academy."

Cassian stared, still inscrutable, still giving the aura of… something. "This is war," he said softly. Carefully.

"No," Kallus clarified, shaking his head. "War is battle, one side versus another and the one with better tactical advantage wins. War is blaster fire and shelling. Covert war," he added, knowing where Cassian was going with this, "covert war is strategic strikes, very specific assassinations to achieve a greater goal. This was planting a bomb just for the sake of killing troopers. We were fresh out of the academy, planning out our lives, not even on high enough clearance to know anything if we were captured - and we weren't captured, we were slaughtered. Onderan was a senseless massacre, just like Lasan was a senseless massacre. I came here so those kinds of tragedies wouldn't happen again."

A long pause, Cassian doing little more than working his jaw. "Hope," he said finally. "You're fighting with hope."

Kallus didn't know how to reply.

"Kay-Tu said there was a human that was part of the ship as well?"

Uh… "Yes," Kallus said, trying to curve back around to the original point of the conversation.

"I'll go talk to him, see what I can find out."

"... Thank you."

Cassian gestured and Kallus followed him out. Together they went to a small room with a few operatives that didn't even glance at Cassian, but did look up and stare at Kallus.

"Here," Cassian said, booting up a terminal. "Kay-Tu, give him access to older records, get past clearance as needed."

"That will break many rebellion protocols," the tall droid replied. "He hasn't been cleared for much of anything yet."

"I know. Use my codes. That will bypass most problems." He gave a shallow shrug. "Nothing he does in here will be unobserved." Kallus looked to the others in the room and realized that they were spies, just like Cassian. That gave Kallus comfort, in a strange way, and he inadvertently let out a sigh of relief. "Besides, Kay, you'll be here."

"Of course I will be. I need to record what he finds."

"Exactly."

And with a nod, Cassian headed out to find the human trying to refuel Gerrara's Lasat's ship. Properly set up, Kallus quietly asked Kay-Tu to call up any files in reference to Saw Gerrara.

The list was more extensive than he had originally thought, though that shouldn't have surprised him. Gerrara had been fighting since the Clone Wars, before the Empire had even been birthed. Where to even start? The most recent.

So he started digging.

Most of what he saw were reports directly from Gerrara, sharing bits of intel as he found them with barely a mention of _how_ he received such information. The few reports that detailed someone from another rebel cell working with him showed distaste for the man or his crew, but never anything concrete.

It wasn't until he found a particular file that he sucked in a breath to prevent swearing vociferously and in earnest. Of _course_ the _Ghost_ crew had come across Gerrara. Of _course_. He was going to find Zeb, pin him to the ground and _interrogate him_ for every scrap of information he _had_!

The file was from only two members of the crew, as the crew had been in two teams. Captain Syndulla's report was clinical and direct, detailing the retrieval of a shield generator and facing down battle droids and the Empire. The report itself didn't detail much of Gerrara, but there was an interesting addendum at the bottom that matched much of what he'd seen so far. That Gerrara was an extremist who could, would, and _had_ gone too far. There was the clear implication that Syndulla never wanted to work with Gerrara again and that the Rebellion shouldn't either, but it was all subtext. What had happened?

The other file was from Bridger, and Kallus couldn't _quite_ stop the twist of his lips. Bridger's report was… an interesting read. It was clear that Bridger was still learning military standard for reports and was treating it very much like telling a story of what happened to a friend. As such, it was a far more detailed read than Syndulla's, and more pertinent to what he needed. Gerrara and some of his crew had been reported as missing and the _Ghost_ had been sent to investigate. There had been the reaffirmation of no life, a distinct lack of construction in orbit as there had been before, and a sandstorm to mess with sensors once they had landed. Bridger's team had found helmets of Saw's team, indicating they had been attacked and wiped out. An attempt to contact the _Ghost_ revealed that they were too deep underground and despite urging to head back, Bridger and his team had proceeded down the tunnels to be attacked by battle droids and rescued by Gerrara himself.

Kallus scowled, because he saw immediately how this colored the rest of Gerrara throughout the file. Bridger's damn optimism and connection for _everyone_ blinded him. There was another disagreement on what to do next. Level heads won that time and they went to some sort of shaft that lead straight to the surface in order to contact Syndulla. There a Geonosian was found and pursuit was initiated. The Geonosian, Klik-Klak, is caught and Kallus starts to see and highlight what Gerrara is capable. There was obsession over what happened to the Geonosians and it's clear that Gerrara's pursuit was all-consuming. While Bridger's report is peppered with understanding and attempts to lighten what is being described, it was clear to Kallus that Gerrara was as cruel as possible to this Klik-Klak to get whatever information was desired. Handcuffs, forceful dragging, rough interrogation, though not as cruel as the Empire.

But as Kallus continued, it just got worse and worse. Bridger's connections and optimism also had him clearly sympathizing with Klik-Klak, and this ultimately warred with his belief in Gerrara. There where whole paragraphs devoted to laying out and understanding both of the beings in conflict, with the rummaging of Klik-Klak's lair, to when, to Kallus's horror, they found an egg. A baby Geonosian. The egg ended up being dragged along and then, while dealing with the Empire, a hostage.

"Kay-Tu," Kallus said through clenched teeth, "please make sure this is flagged."

From there he went through earlier reports, specifically looking for younger and less experienced Rebels who might write more than necessary like Bridger tended to. There weren't many. Most who were solid enough to go out on missions had already been part of the Rebellion for so long and been mentored so well that they didn't have such loose lips as Bridger. Most were like Syndulla, giving just the facts and anything that made stomachs turn wasn't put to file and only given an addendum to express distaste without specifications.

Well, that just meant that Kallus had his work cut out for him. He listed all the addendums and who filed them, then cross-referenced them with who was on the base at the moment. Not enough. He needed to interview all of them to provide enough evidence, but Kallus didn't know how long AP-5 could detain the shuttle. Still, he had enough to provide a link. There was enough circumstantial evidence to perhaps start making Mothma and others reevaluate their relationship with Gerrara.

He downloaded the file to a datapad and took a deep breath. Too much to do. He needed to reinterview the prisoners that were brought in, he needed to find all these names and interview them, he needed to do a deeper dive into the files to find more, but he just _didn't_ have time.

"AP-5," he called into his comm, "how are the delays coming?"

" _I've been able to keep the delays going, but the Lasat is starting to suspect that it's the computer and not the actual ship,_ " AP-5 clarified. " _In short, I can't keep doing this much longer._ "

Kallus tried not to thin his lips in frustration. He would need to move quickly.

"Kay-Tu, do you know where Mon Mothma is?"

"Do I look like a protocol droid?"

Kallus actually smiled. "No, you look like a spy who would know how the base would operate."

"I'm not supposed to look like a spy."

"In the Empire, you wouldn't."

Kay-Tu didn't reply, his opticals the only sign that he didn't know how to respond to that. "I don't actually know where the Senator is. But I suspect she might be in one of the conference rooms in the upper levels."

Kallus nodded. "You understand my search patterns. Would you please continue?"

"I suppose I can."

"Thank you."

* * *

Kallus headed out with his datapad and took a deep breath. The Lasat was still with the ship, diagnosing whatever mischief that AP-5 had installed, so Kallus organized his thoughts on what he would need to present. All the circumstantial evidence, the interviews with the prisoners, Bridger's report, and the one last piece of evidence that he was loathed to even admit. Kallus headed towards the lifts. To his surprise, he found Zeb there, waiting.

"Zeb," he greeted, raising a brow. "I hardly expected to see you here."

Zeb merely grunted.

Kallus raised his other eyebrow incredulously.

"Tch." Zeb crossed his arms. "I've been watching the monitors. I know that AP-5 is keeping the crew of that shuttle busy. Once I saw you on the move, I thought I'd make sure no one bothered you."

Kallus said nothing, couldn't get anything past his throat, and merely nodded. They entered the lift together and the doors shut quietly behind them.

It was probably for the best if Zeb was with him. Mothma could speak to Zeb and ask questions about Gerrara and the incident with the egg, so he added that to his list of evidence. But Kallus didn't really want Zeb to be there if Kallus needed to use his final item to try and convince the Rebellion that it was pure idiocy to work with Gerrara. It was private, not something he wanted to even resort to. Nothing for it now. Time was of the essence.

Mothma was indeed in the upper levels and a few questions brought them right to her.

"Ah, Agent Kallus, it's good to see you again."

Kallus couldn't quite help but bristle. "I'm not an Agent any more."

"But you are an Agent, Alexsandr. Perhaps in the Empire for the longer time, but you were an Agent for us. A Fulcrum to push the Empire back." She smiled gently. "And as an Agent of ours, you more than earned that title."

He could only nod to that. The logic was sound but hearing himself called Agent… That would be dealt with at a later time. Time to be direct. "I need to bring something to your attention."

"Oh?"

"This will take some time, and might best be dealt with in private."

"Very well. We'll use this conference room." The senator guided them to a smaller conference room. Zeb hesitated, taking his security role seriously and moving to guard the door for privacy, but Kallus offered a look and a nod of the head and Zeb stepped in.

Kallus took a deep breath. "As you know, I've been going through personnel with Captain Andor…" and he went on from there. He outlined what he'd found in the reports about Gerrara, the constant addendums and requests to never work with the extremist again, and how things were conveniently not left to file.

"I agree," she said softly, "that it doesn't look good for Saw. But he _has_ provided good information thus far. It would be unwise to stop using as good a source just because he rubs people the wrong way. We need to focus on the larger picture. As we can, we can discuss this with everyone who has had an issue and see if there's anything deeper, but that's a smaller matter for when we have more resources."

A very reasonable response. It was brought to her attention and she wasn't dismissing it out of hand. Instead, she merely pointed out that the Rebellion was (perpetually) short on resources. If they could get more people and supplies, there was no doubt that they could handle this sort of administrative task. But the Rebellion was far more concerned with _surviving_. If Kallus didn't have such a personal reason as to _why_ they needed to end working with Gerrara _as soon as possible_ , he would likely have accepted that answer.

But as things stood, he could not.

So he started to outline the prisoners that Gerrara's Lasat had brought in. Their unusual story, the hissed comments, and overall demeanor. He was able to recite specifics of what they said verbatim, and he saw that Mothma's calm face was furrowing into a frown. Zeb confirmed everything, and it was obvious that the quartermaster could as well, given how attentive she was.

Mothma sat back, clearly deliberating and tapped a finger along her cheek. "Between this and what you've already discussed, I can see why you are so insistent, Alexsandr. However this is still all circumstantial. Very, very suggestive, I acknowledge that, and I'll be starting to keep a closer eye on the reports of any team who works with Saw, but we must balance what we have right now," she held up a hand, "which is not pure proof, and what we _know_ ," she held up her other hand, "which is his consistent record of good information."

Still reasonable. She was a politician after all, and the courts were all about actual _proof_. She was still being the cautious senator. One did not make allegations without enough proof to act, else get voted out or face a serious uphill battle on whatever issues one was pressing forward. Kallus understood her position, but he needed her to be a _Rebel_ , not a senator at the moment. She understood and believed in the cause with a passion that had passed on in her speech that he had replayed over and over again. But for all that she was used to speeches and could instill that inspiration as Bridger could, she was still using the means of a politician.

"Zeb, explain Geonosis."

This actually had Mothma taking notes, and he handed her the file with Bridger's report. She read through it slowly and several times, absorbing and taking even more notes. Her frown continued to deepen, and he could see anger sparking in her eyes. _Finally_. But her response left much to be desired.

"I will be interviewing Saw Gerrara personally as soon as possible to discuss this," she said coldly at the report. "Commander Bridger's report indicates that perhaps Saw was under great distress having lost his unit, but even if he was, he needs to understand that we are _not_ the Empire and that compassion must be shown to all life."

Damn Bridger's empathy! Kallus bit back a growl. That report that detailed both sides and Bridger's conflict of being sympathetic to Gerrara but not agreeing with his actions. Mothma was convinced to act, but not in the right way! She had a great deal before her, it was clear she understood what Gerrara was, but she still thought _words_ could do anything! That a stern reprimand was the starting point when dealing with such an extremist! Kallus had been in the _Empire_ , he understood that extremists didn't just change their minds with one conversation! Otherwise propaganda would be all that was needed! One needed to fight back! As long as Gerrara had the Rebellion at his back, he would proceed unfettered with how he operated. Even _without_ the Rebellion at his back, he might still continue. If this Rebellion was to be better than the Empire, then they _needed_ to avoid Gerrara! Cut all ties! If Kallus had his way with how he was feeling at the moment, that would include strapping Gerrara to a shuttle and sending into a supernova.

He was going to have to use his last resort.

He was not comfortable with even admitting it, let alone discussing it.

His emotions were swirling in a tangled mess, pulling him in a million directions all demanding immediate attention when he _needed_ to stay calm and focused.

So he took a deep and controlled breath.

"Senator Mothma, you seem to think this is an isolated incident with Gerrara. It is not."

"Oh, I believe you about a pattern of behavior," Mothma agreed, still taking notes from his files. "If possible, I would like you to start interviewing everyone who has worked with Gerrara to find out why they don't want to be assigned with him again, and I want you to be in charge of interviewing the prisoners that we just received. Yes, get Imperial information from them, but also see what you can find out. I suspect that I'll be having a very heated discussion with Saw Gerrara by the end of the day."

"He's been like this for _years_. Decades."

That actually got Mothma to look up. "This isn't a _recent_ change?"

Kallus worked to unclench his jaw. "No, it's how he's _always_ operated." Though it was hard work, he went through what had happened to him on Onderon. Zeb already had the outline and it had been part of his file as Andor had worked with him when they were both Fulcrums. The memories of it remained strong, having just explained the full details of it to Andor a scant few hours earlier. The smell of the swamp, mud, charred meat. The hulking, lumbering form of the Lasat easily walking through the smoke and debris. Blaster shots. Death.

Mothma had looked at him with empathy. "Yet you are alive."

Slowly, so as not to cause concern, he stood, turned his back to her and lifted his jacket and shirt. And thus his last resort was on full display. He _worked_ to keep his face neutral.

" _Karabast!_ I'm going to _eviscerate_ that Force-be-damned _bogan_!" Zeb growled.

"The L2 and L3 vertebrae were cracked and the spinal cord partially damaged, particularly on the posterior," Kallus explained as coldly as possible. "The T4 through the T6 sustained similar damage and I suffered paralysis on my right side. The C8 vertebrae was cracked and strained my spinal cord." Kallus held his shirt and jacket up even higher, the scars along his spine from his surgeries clear, along with the mild prosthetics needed to replace some of his nerves. The lumbar vertebrae had lost some his finer motor control, the thoracic injuries had left him bereft of his right arm, and the cervical crack had made his nerves feel on fire. Looking back, it was always a wonder he had stayed conscious. While his spinal injuries had been numerous, they had been deemed within acceptable margins for Kallus to be kept on the Imperial rolls instead of honorably discharged to live as a triplegic. Or at least _some_ of the injuries.

"I was put into communications while I recovered, since a desk job didn't require much motion as they put me through the surgeries necessary to let me use my arm again. With nothing else to do but that desk job I applied myself to exceeding standards. That's how ISB found me and recruited me. It's also why I can now walk. ISB finished the surgeries necessary to get me on my feet again."

Zeb was still growling curses in his native tongue, his voice deepening with every grunt.

Kallus let out a long breath then dropped his shirt, tucking it in neatly and precisely to hide the damage, and adjusting his jacket. "I was just a recruit, barely out of the barracks," he said, tugging at his cuffs and smoothing every wrinkle he could see. Slowly he turned back. "That was two _decades_ ago. Gerrara has been an extremist too long to back out of his ways now with just a stern lecture. He believes in what he's doing and he doesn't care about what the cost is. Gerrara might provide the best intel you receive, but he has absolutely no qualms about how he acquires it."

Zeb was already on his feet, spoiling for a fight, shaking with rage, but it was Mothma that Kallus was watching. He had seen anger sparking in her eyes, but now there was fury. Caged and contained fury. And deep, hard resolve.

His sigh of relief was very silent and very subtle.

Mothma's nostrils were flaring, and she took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Captain Orrellious," she said softly, her voice only barely containing her wrath. "I wish to speak to the prisoners. Immediately. Please have a medical droid summoned to meet me there."

Kallus had to commend her. She was giving Zeb something to do before he started hitting things. And he had to wonder if her anger was over Gerrara or at herself for not seeing the signs. It wasn't his place to judge.

Zeb stepped outside and started barking out orders to the nearest security personel.

"Alexsandr," Mothma's voice was still soft, but when Kallus looked over he saw a great deal of compassion. He glanced down, not wishing to see that and straightened out another non-existent fold, "you have shown great courage. You have my utmost thanks for bringing this to my attention. I have already assigned you to investigate. I will want full evidence when I present this to other members of the Rebellion, but I believe I have enough to use my discretion to remove Saw Gerrara from our informant files. You will never have to worry about him again."

He would. Things were never that simple. But Kallus accepted the gesture for what it was.

"Thank you, Senator."

* * *

In that moment, Kallus realized something.

Gerrara had been dealt with. He would never see that Lasat again.

That loosened a knot of muscles he wasn't aware were taught.

But he would never see that Lasat again.

And he had a question.

* * *

With Mothma busy interviewing the prisoners and a flurry of activity starting as she gave out orders about Gerrara, it was easy for Kallus to slip down to the hanger. He passed by Andor, who was talking to someone who wasn't dressed as a rebel. Kallus absently wondered if it was a member of Gerrara's shuttle crew, but decided it didn't matter. He instead wound his way through the fighters and shuttles to find the freighter that the Lasat had arrived in. No one was around, so he simply sat down on the docking ramp and waited.

While waiting, Kallus remained productive. He continued with his lists of Rebels that had worked with Gerrara and when they would most likely be on base again and started arranging his schedule to interview them inbetween the rest of the personnel that he and Andor were going over. He was vaguely surprised that he could even focus on such work, but, he supposed, with the knowledge that he could _finally_ close that part of his life, face the cause of his surgeries and suffering, face the _cause_ and no longer fear.

The Rebellion finally understood that Gerrara had absolutely no qualms about how he "found" his information.

Gerrara and his cell were persona non grata and would never be on Yavin again.

It eased him to know that this was so.

In that regard it made sense that he could now focus on the more mundane after spending the better part of an afternoon (it felt like a _lifetime_ ) stressed and worried about simply hearing the voice of one Lasat.

"Bogan, what are you doing on _my_ ramp?"

A voice that no longer seemed to inspire a stressed response.

Kallus stood calmly, tapping out the last addition to his datapad, and looked at the Lasat he had seen mere hours ago. He stayed where he was on the ramp and kept his back straight as he stood at rest and squared his shoulders. He was taller than the Lasat like this, and he easily slipped back into such an Imperial stance. He shouldn't. He wasn't an Imperial any more. But perhaps he should be for this one last encounter.

"Zeraga Boshallios," Kallus greeted. "Washout of the Lasan military within a year of completing basic training, dishonorably discharged, and took that training out the be a mercenary. A decade spent wandering from job to job to put food in your belly, specializing in physical combat and munitions. Joined with Saw Gerrara a quarter of a century ago and became one of his terrorists. There you have stayed and maintained the longest connection since leaving Lasan."

"Ch," the Lasat rolled his green eyes, unimpressed. "So you searched the HoloNet for me. That supposed to impress me? Get out of my way."

Kallus raised an eyebrow. "Since joining Gerrara, you have been responsible, personally, for three thousand four hundred and sixty-nine deaths and three hundred and fourteen injuries, give or take the last two months. Many of those high numbers are from your expertise with explosives and ambushing larger squads and cohorts. If you include the rest of Gerrara's cell the numbers are substantially higher. But I think it's worth it to just look at what _you_ are responsible for."

"And? You're still in my way."

Deep breath.

"Why did you let me live?"

"I don't know you, _bogan_ , now _move_."

Kallus stayed firm. "You had been in Gerrara's company for just over five years," he continued calmly. "You were on Onderan, protecting Gerrara's bolt hole when-"

"I don't know you, I don't care," the Lasat growled, stepping up the ramp, his lumbering frame now making Kallus look up. "You are in my way. Now move."

"An interesting way to treat your allies."

"You're the one blocking my way." Knuckles cracked. "I'd be justified in putting claws on you to make you move."

Kallus raised a brow and remained like stone.

The Lasat let out a loud growl, "I said _move it_."

"No," Kallus replied camly.

A louder growl. Then clawed fingers went for his shoulders.

It didn't work. Kallus had trained to face Lasats after he regained his legs. He had used that to his advantage on Lasan. He now sparred regularly with Zeb. He sidestepped out of range and once more took the higher ground up the long ramp. "Why did you let me live?"

"I've already _said_ , I don't know you!"

Kallus could feel his temper slipping.

It was different. Before all the tension was anxiety and fear, of expecting an attack, of old memories fighting to break free.

This wasn't that.

This was frustration. He wasn't getting an answer. He wasn't getting an answer he'd waited _decades_ for. He wasn't getting an answer he _needed_. He wasn't getting anywhere because this damnfool Lasat _didn't remember_...

Oh.

Kallus narrowed his eyes contemptuously down to the Lasat. "You really don't remember me?"

"How many times I gotta say it, _bogan_!"

That day which had crystallized so much of the life Kallus lead after, that nightmare that still kept him up, that day of _horror_ , wasn't remembered the same way for this Lasat. Indeed, it wasn't remembered at all. Something so important for Kallus was just another day for this Lasat. He…. He didn't know how to feel about that.

Kallus was so struck by this realization that he didn't see the actual strike heading for him.

Thankfully he didn't have to. Zeb did.

With what was likely just a simple shout but to Kallus sounded like a war cry, Zeb came loping up and tackled (more likely shoved) the aggressive Lasat away.

There was much shouting that Kallus didn't understand in their native language, with Zeb offering a lot of "Karabast", but Kallus just stayed still, processing how such a large and defining moment of his life meant nothing, wasn't even _remembered_ by the perpetrator. Surely, there was fiction about this, some diatribe with ancient warriors working to garner revenge only to find their adversary was a minor criminal. He had read that book decades ago in his early schooling. He had never thought it would actually _apply_ to his own life. The end of the story was always the reveal of the criminal. Nothing about how to _deal_ with the aftermath.

Kallus closed his eyes, still staggering emotionally and trying desperately to get himself _back together_. He had been on such an emotional roller coaster for the day and he'd held himself _together_ and he'd do so _again_. Wasn't he at peace with this mere moments ago? He needed to get back to that. To remember that he'd already resolved this, that Gerrara would no longer be welcome amongst the Rebels and he'd never have to see this Lasat…. Zeraga Boshallios…. again.

And he didn't need to. He had found himself. He was a _Rebel_. The lingering questions from his time in the Empire didn't matter in the _now_. He knew why he survived. He survived by chance, by skill, by the Force for all he knew. But he _had survived_. And he had built himself from that. And every brick he had laid upon that foundation, every layer of decision and consequence, kept building to the man he was now.

He may not be okay. Not at the moment.

But he would be.

Zeb and Boshallios had drawn eyes with their vocal vitriol, and Kallus didn't want the deck officer to have got get involved. The situation had already been handled.

So, with more tremor in he wanted to show in his arms ( _still_ not okay, but working there…), he reached up to Zeb's elbow.

Zeb whirled with a growl, teeth bared, and Kallus took pride in the fact that he didn't even wince.

"Damn little human," Boshallios hissed, "stay _out_ of this."

"No wonder he was prejudiced against Lasat," Zeb growled right back. " _You_ were the first one he ever met. Now _stand down_ , private."

"You're not captain of the Guard any more, Orrellios," Boshellios barked back, shaking a meaty fist. "By the _Ashla_ , you stuck up piece of bantha-"

"Enough!" Kallus shouted. "Zeb! We're done here!"

After all he had gotten an answer. Not the one he was seeking, but an answer nonetheless.

"Not until he apologizes for trying to _pummel_ you," Zeb hissed, glaring at Boshallios.

"He was in my _way_!"

Zeb was already turning and Kallus yanked Zeb's elbow _hard_. "I've survived _worse_ ," he enunciated slowly and carefully, willing for Zeb to understand, yet not willing to _explain_ in such a public venue. He'd already had his epiphany. He was resolving it as it stood. He would be fine. Eventually.

Zeb frowned heavily, glaring at the older Lasat, and Boshallios glared right back. Kallus sighed. Damn stubborn…

So he stood tall, straightened himself and slid back into posture, glaring down his nose at Boshallios. "You and the rest of Gerrara's cell are no longer welcome here," he said bluntly and _finally_ Boshallios seemed to see him as more than an annoyance. "After a thorough review of reports, interviews with our own teams who have worked with you and your cell in the past, and various other investigations," - which he would be starting, but Boshallios didn't need to know that yet - "the Rebellion does not feel you have the moral fortitude to remain our allies. We will not get in your way. But we will no longer assist you. We have refueled your vessel and you may depart at any time. Do not come back."

Boshallios was livid, shaking with rage, eyes bulging. Zeb, however, was smiling smugly, hands on his hips, looking as relaxed as if the previous altercation hadn't just happened. Zeb's chuckle was layers of condescending and self-satisfied and it just made Boshallios even angrier. There was going to be an actual fist fight if this kept up. So Kallus simply turned and walked down the ramp. He kept a wide berth from Boshallios, not wanting to be in arm's length for some sort of "bump". Zeb stepped backward, triumphant smile still in place but not turning his back to Boshallios.

At the base of the ramp, Kallus could see Mothma was coming up, security with her, her face calm but even at this distance, the pace she set showed that she was _livid_. So Kallus paused at the base of the ramp, and simply turned partway to glance back. "You once let me live," he said softly, looking right into those hard, green eyes. "I never knew why. I never will. And you will never know who I am. Only know that I have informed the Rebels of just _who_ you are and that _you_ have now severed an alliance that Gerrara may have actually valued. Now you can wonder why I did that. I had to wait almost twenty years. Maybe I'll see you then. Maybe not."

And Kallus smiled. "I don't really care anymore."

He walked away, Zeb still smug by his side, as he went to Mothma to assure her that Boshallios was on his way.

The Lasat was clearly furious, but with Zeb and Mothma's security, and at this point many eyes from base watching, the Lasat did nothing. Just stomped up his ramp. The human that Cassian had been speaking to said some hurried goodbyes and rushed up to the freighter, but Kallus didn't watch. He just kept by Mothma, utterly still.

"He's gone," Kay-Tu said after he and Cassian approached.

Kallus let out a long breath that was maybe a little explosive, and he _definitely_ sagged forward a little, no longer able to keep Imperial posture.

"Give me your pad," Cassian held out a hand. "I'll start arranging."

Kallus didn't even bother to ask how Cassian already knew what he'd been planning.

Mothma had a hand on his arm and was offering soft eyes. "I will look forward to you report," she said softly. "As I said, I have enough to justify my preliminary action. Everything you set forward will just further my case." She patted his arm. "Do you need anything?" she asked gently.

"Thank you, Senator, no," he replied.

"Very well."

That just left him and Zeb.

"We need to thank AP-5."

"We will," Zeb said, an arm around Kallus's shoulder that may have been supporting him more than Kallus was willing to admit. "But first I'm taking you to the commissary, sitting you down in front of huge plate of food, and forcing it down your throat."

Kallus chuckled at the various mental images that popped into his mind, very few of which were appropriate. He really _must_ be exhausted.

And the concept of having a quiet meal with a friend sounded like the best way to end the day.

 **The End**

 **Author's Notes:** This was supposed to go in One Fulcrum to another, but it grew into its own beast and had to be pulled into its own fic. This idea doesn't really use Cassian as a support but Zeb, making it an easy cut, though, and as a stand alone it works really, really well. This was actually inspired by someone ELSE having the idea of Kallus meeting the Lasat that nearly killed him, and we wanted to do our own take on it.

It was important to show a difference between an actual stress response and what fanfic writers tend to think is a stress response. Kallus has had 20+ years to handle this traumatic event, he isn't going to jump into a flashback in italics and come back curled in the fetal position sobbing or some other overreaction that authors do to try and convey strong emotion. Kallus has a very strong response but doesn't become _catatonic_ , and he reacts appropriately for a man of his background and abilities.

But, with the giant glass house of being fanfic authors ourselves, the reveal of his surgeries is just plain drama. But we hope it's the good kind of drama, taking the line from the show, "... but I couldn't move..." to its literal extreme and building up to the reveal. We almost wanted Cassian there, but again, he isn't the support here, Zeb is.

The hardest thing for survivors to handle, at least for us personally, is the thought that the perpetrator doesn't understand what they did wrong, or in Kallus' case, doesn't even remember the assault. Victims can't conceive how things that were so traumatizing for them are perceived as nothing to others, but that's the real world and Kallus is emotionally strong/healthy enough that he can work his way to accepting that answer. Not quickly, but eventually. Not everyone is that lucky.

As always, we hope you enjoyed!


End file.
